


the legend.

by killmongersgurl



Series: redeemed!softboi [8]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-20 16:50:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17026464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/killmongersgurl/pseuds/killmongersgurl





	the legend.

You woke up in Erik’s bed this morning.

 _Erik Stevens’ bed_.

You stupid bitch.

The legend of Erik Stevens, MIT’s resident heartbreaker, touched your ears the moment you first stepped onto the campus. As a graduate student who was pursuing a double major while harboring an almost borderline genius intellect, it was pretty much common knowledge to everyone that he had no time to entertain a girlfriend or anything of the sort. He would turn down all offers for a date and reject all phone numbers. This didn’t stop women from attempting to sneak their way into his cold heart, something that he never hesitated to take full advantage of. He would twist his way into their eager little hearts with pretty words and turn these same women into human cum rags who would willingly allow him to release his pent up stress directly into their pussies for a night, right before he sent them home once he was finished with them and acted like they didn’t exist the next time he saw them.

Erik was a hoe, but simply labeling him as such would be an injustice. He wasn’t  _just_  a hoe. He was a  _smart_  hoe. An intellectual hoe, if you will, one with no regard for anyone other than himself and his reportedly insatiable sex drive. He was the most legendary hoe—ah,  _there_  we go—to grace MIT’s campus and he was already being written into the school’s history.

This was all according to simple folklore, of course. For all you knew, some bitter woman could have made it all up just to spite him for breaking her heart and ruin his chances of finding love. But it was enough to ensure that you steered clear of him. While women throughout the campus were torn between loving and hating him, men wished to have just a taste of the legend’s power. And you? You quickly decided that you would literally rather die before you let some pretty nigga with a big brain and a magical dick make you look stupid over sex. You didn’t care how good the sex was and you didn’t care to find out. All you knew was that you had no time to entertain any fuckboys, especially if this particular fuckboy was the alleged fuckboy of all fuckboys.

But the universe was a funny bitch.

And you woke up in his bed this morning. 

_Erik Stevens’ fucking bed._

About a year ago, the two of you ended up in the same program: chemical engineering. And as that universe bitch would have it, you and King Fuckboy were paired for a three-month long project. You could feel the jealous stares spiking the back of your head whenever you met up with him in the library or outside of campus, and honestly, you wanted to scream to the heavens that this pretty nigga would have never received any of your attention had it not been for that godforsaken project. But after submitting the project, he kissed you. And you kissed him back. And then you fucked for seven months straight.

Seven months of toe curling, tear jerking, hair pulling, back scratching, ass smacking, sweat inducing, neighbor disturbing, stress relieving sex.

Both you and Erik agreed that your relationship would be purely sexual. Just sex.  _Only_  sex. This arrangement somehow shifted into the two of you actually becoming genuine friends after you both discovered that you had much more in common outside of your high sex drives. You ended up finding out that he wasn’t just an intellectual hoe, but he was a complex hoe. A  _nuanced_  hoe. A bit of a nerdy hoe that you still didn’t trust, because ‘just sex’ had gradually morphed into the two of you sitting down and forcing one to get into the other’s favorite anime series. ‘ _Only_  sex’ slowly turned into the two of you hanging out outside of the bedroom with each other’s friends, right before he pulled you aside, fucked you with a hand around your throat, and placed a kiss onto your cheek after he made you come all over his dick.

And you woke up in his bed this morning.

If you didn’t know what humility was before, you certainly did now.

There were certain lines and boundaries surrounding this carefully structured relationship, both of which needed to be respected. There were to be no strings attached and no romantic feelings involved. This especially included waking up in his bed and feeling all types of stupid shit you weren’t supposed to be feeling—stupid, shitty feelings that you currently  _were_  feeling, because he was acting weird.

No. Not  _weird_.

Maybe  _strange_  was a better word for it.

Erik was acting  _strange_ , stranger than usual anyway, which certainly was saying something because within the seven months you’d gotten to know him, you could say that he was already strange enough to begin with. You couldn’t even really pinpoint when this change in his behavior began, what spurred it, or even catch the gist of it. Actually, now that you thought about it, it—his behavior—wasn’t necessarily strange. Per se. It was different. 

Ah,  _different_. 

This was the proper word for the change in his behavior. Erik was acting  _different_. At least, you thought that he was acting different. You honestly weren’t too sure what was happening, but you did know that whatever it was, was getting to you—because you woke up in his fucking bed this morning. 

Erik. Stevens’. Fucking. Bed.

This shouldn’t have happened. This happening shouldn’t have even been a possibility. There were only two rules within this careful arrangement between you two: sex and companionship. That was it. Yet all you could think about was how comfortable you had allowed yourself to get with  _this_  man—of all fucking people—because for such a thug nigga, he was real sweet with you. Like having your favorite foods sent to your apartment whenever you were on your period, helping you study even when he had his own shit to prepare for, or that time he got out of bed at three in the morning to replace the flat tire on your car and followed behind you in his own car to make sure you got home safely.

Ugh.

You really couldn’t stand this nigga, mostly because you could literally feel yourself liking him. Little by little. Bit by bit. But you weren’t supposed to, you weren’t allowed to, and you couldn’t like him—not  _him_ —because this wasn’t just a man. This was a legend.  _The_  legend. But like the stupid fucking bitch you were, you unwittingly allowed him to get you comfortable enough to become a part of the folklore, just like he did with those other women.

You liked him. A lot.

But what if it was all in your head? What if nothing had changed at all?

 _Ugh_.

The arm around your waist pressed you closer to his ribbed body as if its host could sense your inner turmoil. You resisted the urge to look up at him as you laid your head on his chest, choosing instead to indulge in just how good it felt to wake up in his hold. You had never done anything like this with him before today. And waking up to his firm hand gripping your ass as the other laced itself with your fingers over his toned stomach, while you laid in the comfort of his bed just smelling him and feeling him? It was nice. Really nice.

Erik got to you.

And you needed to get the fuck out of there.

A little frown touched your lips as you pulled away from him, one that you quickly dismissed. You had no reason to frown. Not over him. You ignored just how cold you already felt as the cool morning air ghosted over your naked body, along with the growing urge to slide right back underneath the covers and have him warm you up with his body. You stood and grabbed the robe hanging from the corner of the closet’s door, pulled it on, and began to look for your clothes, which honestly shouldn’t have been such a task. They should have been right—

“Yo.”

Oh, you stupid bitch. 

“Aye, what you doin’?” 

Erik’s voice was rough and thick with sleep, a sound that made your stomach turn with excitement. It almost had you peeling that stupid robe off of your body and skipping over to him. It made you want him. It made you want to give yourself to him and have him fuck you to the point of exhaustion again. And again. And again. And again, and again, and  _again_ —

“Looking for my clothes,” you answered before your thoughts could dig any deeper and get you into even more trouble. You shook your head as you looked behind his rack of sneakers, because where the fuck else could disappearing clothes end up?

“Thought you ain’t have work today.”

“I don’t.”

“You got somewhere to be?”

“No.”

There was a pause. A pointed one.

“Somebody to meet up with?”

A little smile touched your lips at the sound of that underlying tone laced within his words. Was that…  _jealousy_? Could the legend even get jealous? You couldn’t remember that being a part of the stories. You pulled the robe closer to yourself, taking a quick whiff of his scent as you moved onto looking in his closet. “You sound jealous.”

He hummed, low and short. “If it was my place to be jealous, would I have a reason to be?”

It was safe to say you hadn’t expected  _that_ response. You blinked, twice and slowly, but you followed with a shake of your head. “No.”

A pleasant silence filled the air after this, allowing you to sift through his closet as he watched you. He cleared his throat. “Just for the sake of fairness, I’ma make this clear. If it was your place to be jealous, you wouldn’t have a reason to be either.”

Your mouth fell open. “Oh.”

“Oh?”

Fuck. He was getting to you again.

You ignored the way your stomach flipped and tumbled and closed your eyes, taking a moment to compose yourself before you ended up back in his bed. This was just another fuckboy. The fuckboy of all fuckboys— _the legend_. You had no reason to be feeling so sweet with him. This man would only break your heart and laugh as he moved onto the next bitch.

You opened your eyes, only to find your fingers holding onto one of his hoodies with a vice-like grip.

You were so stupid.

“I’m not—“ Your words died in your throat, forcing you to swallow down that lump.  _Hard_. “I’m not meeting up with anybody, Erik.”

“Go back to sleep, then.”

A scoff slipped past your lips. That sounded better than it should have. You released your grip on his hoodie and swallowed again. “I just need my clothes.”

The bed shifted underneath him as he kissed his teeth. “Did you look in the corner by the shoe rack?”

The corner by the shoe rack? You shut the closet’s door and made your way over to that corner. You bent over to look before shaking your head. “They’re not here.”

“Shit, my bad. Maybe it’s that corner behind the closet.”

You made your way over to the closet, bending over to reach the corner behind it. You shook your head. “It’s not here either. It’s not like clothes can get up and walk.” 

You turned your head to look at him, only to find him sitting up on his elbows and craning his neck to watch your ass. You stood up with a roll of your eyes. “Grow up, nigga.”

Erik simply shrugged. “I can’t help it if your ass is fat. Control that shit.”

A short giggle escaped you before you could stop it. You wanted to punch yourself in the mouth for that. You also wanted to be mad at him for playing with you like that when you were attempting to escape his bedroom, but all you could do was shake your head as you fought the growth in your smile while he looked you up and down. “Fuck you.”

He gave a low chuckle, licking his lips as a little smile touched them. It was small and barely even there, but you could see it.  _A smile_. It was so weird to see that on his face, but you couldn’t stop looking at it. He arched a brow. “You look good in my robe.”

“Oh, right.” You looked down at yourself and touched the sash around your waist. “Sorry for stretching it out, but I was cold and couldn’t find—”

“Nah, you good. You look good in it.”

You looked up to meet his eyes.

His gaze slowly trailed up and down your body, as if he wanted to take his sweet time committing every bit of you to memory. “Might have to get you one of your own.”

There he went again, being all sweet and shit.

 _Ugh_.

Fuck that nigga.

You looked away from him to continue your search, but you were pretty sure that he saw your smile stretch into a grin. All you could see was his closet filled with his clothes, his shoes and sneakers, and his shit. Where the fuck was  _your_  shit?

“You find anything yet?”

You sucked your teeth. “No. I haven’t.”

“I think I remember seein’ your panties hangin’ from the lamp in the living room if that helps.”

You bit back another smile as you thought of the other night. It was fun, probably the most fun you’d ever had with him.  _Different_. You didn’t know what it was. Maybe it was the way he looked at you with those soft and almost intrusive eyes. No, maybe it was the way he kissed you with those slow lips and tasted you with an even slower tongue, as if he wanted to claim you as his. It had to be the way he thoroughly fucked you to the point of acute exhaustion in at least three different rooms and talked you to sleep afterwards. You honestly couldn’t even recall a word he said, just soft murmurs about some fairytale country that sounded a little too real to be fake as he played with your fingers over his chest. 

Like your own personal lullaby. 

Last night wasn’t normal, not the sort of normalcy you were accustomed to. Things were slowly switching up between the two of you, and you  _knew_  that things were switching up because the way that you’d been with him last night was the same exact way you had been hanging out with him for the past few weeks. This was just the first time you accidentally slipped up and actually slept over. 

_You woke up in this nigga’s fucking bed._

And it was nice. It was entirely different, but nice. Really nice. But you couldn’t even really indulge in it the way you wanted to, because as different and as nice as it was for you, it probably felt absolutely the same for him.

So you snorted. “You might be right. I swear they were right over there,” you declared as you pointed to an empty spot near the bed. “This room is big, but not ‘lose your clothes after sleeping over’ big.”

“Might as well lay your fluffy ass back down and go to sleep.”

You glared at him.

He simply gestured to the empty spot beside him, the same spot you slept in last night. This almost made you take a sharp breath.  _Almost_. Mostly because you were forced to ignore the way he was trying get you back into his bed, along with the fact that it was working, but you stood your ground. “Fluffy, nigga?”

He nodded slowly, as if you should have understood. “Y’know, clouds and marshmallows and shit—”

You rolled your eyes. “Erik.”

“Relax. I got a mean sweet tooth—”

Your entire face burned. “ _Erik_ —”

“You don’t have to go.”

Another moment of silence fell between you, this one not so pleasant. It was actually a bit more awkward than you wanted to acknowledge as you watched each other from across the room. Those chocolate brown eyes of his sparkled with something you weren’t used to seeing from him; not directed at you, anyway. It was a bit much to have him looking at you like that as you wore his clothing.

You looked away with a sharp hiss. “Erik, listen, I can’t—”

“That’s what you were thinkin’, right?” he interrupted. “That you had to go?”

You hesitated, taking a moment to answer before nodding. “Well, yeah.”

“You don’t have to go,” he repeated. “I’d rather you stay, actually.”

“Y—Yeah?” 

Just the sound of that stutter leaving your own mouth made you cringe and take a step back. But he only nodded.

“Dead ass,” he answered.

“Thought we were just fucking.”

“Are we?”

The sudden change of pace within the conversation made you blink at his shoe rack. This particular conversation was one you felt coming about two weeks ago, when you caught yourself feeling jealous as some bitch touched his hand at the club, only to be filled with giddiness when he pulled away from her and pointed at you. You actually imagined this entire conversation going differently. Like him making fun of you for catching feelings while he moved onto the next bitch, or you cutting him off because you could no longer endure all the confusion over his sweetness. Instead, it was happening like  _this_. While you were dressed in his robe as you searched his bedroom for your clothes after staying the night for the first time, and he attempted to entice you back into bed in a show of faux domesticity.

You bit into your bottom lip and looked to him. You shrugged and released your lip from your teeth, ignoring the way he watched your mouth. “I don’t know.”

He nodded, allowing his head to fall to the side as he watched you. “Understood. But I can’t say the same.”

He couldn’t say the same? You could feel your entire face burning with embarrassment as you forced yourself to return his gaze, despite how badly you wanted to look away. His eyes were ridiculously intense. They were making you hot and a bit antsy, but they were also keeping you in place, making sure that you didn’t run from this conversation.

You raised your chin with pride. If this arrangement was going to end badly, you might as well put up a fight and make it look like you didn’t care. “Well? Where does that leave us?”

“That’s up to you. It should be clear to you exactly what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

“I want you to come back to this bed and lay with me.”

Well, shit.

Your mouth fell open. You probably looked like a fish out of water—an oblivious idiot who had no idea how to read clues. So, that explained last night, along with the day before that and the evening before that. Had he been trying to tell you this whole time?

“Erik, what are you saying?”

“I’m askin’ if you comin’ back to this bed or not.”

You blinked and he held a hand out to you. It dawned on you, right then and there, just how gorgeous he looked in the morning. You wouldn’t mind seeing this more often. Before you even knew it, you found yourself making your way over to him. You untied the sash around your waist, slipped the robe off, and placed it into his open hand.

Erik gave a low groan, biting into his bottom lip as he took the robe and set it aside. “You look good.”

“You’re only saying that because I’m naked.”

“Didn’t I tell you, you looked good in my robe?”

“You’re a cornball ass nigga.”

“Damn, ain’t nobody tell me it was Opposite Day.”

A little chuckle slipped past your lips as you climbed onto the bed and under the covers. He immediately took you into his arms and you melted into him at once, allowing him to hold you the same way he held you last night. You rested your cheek onto his chest with a leg over his hip and a hand on your ass while the other played with your fingers over his stomach. It felt so good to be like this with him, warm and sweet. You could already feel yourself getting ready to fall asleep. 

You watched with heavy eyes as he played with your fingers, folding and unfolding them with his like it was a game. Seeing him do that made your stomach flip. This was the legend, the coldest and most heartless man to walk the halls of MIT, and yet he was being so tender with you. You definitely didn’t remember hearing anything about  _this_  in the stories. You hesitated before looking up to watch his face, only to find him looking right back at you.

Had he been watching you this whole time?

You swallowed. “I didn’t think you’d be into cuddling.”

“I’m not. You just fluffy.”

“I’m not afraid to post up with you, nigga.”

“I know,” he confessed with a chuckle.

The sound made your stomach turn as you blinked up at him. You ignored that, but it did make you smile a little. You didn’t mind this bit of domesticity, even if it was with the legend.

“I put your clothes in the laundry.” Erik placed your hand flat onto his stomach, forcing you to feel the keloids that decorated his skin as he grazed his fingertips over your wrist. “They should be done by the time we wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered as you watched him. He put your clothes in the laundry? Fuck, he was so fine. How could one person look so good from every angle? “Oh.”

“Real articulate today.”

“I mean, thank you. You didn’t have to do that for me. And you could have just told me where my clothes were instead of having me look stupid.”

“You didn’t look stupid. You looked good. You know I like seein’ you bend over.”

You tried to snort, but it came out as a tired sigh. This man just smelled so good. He felt so good. He looked even better. You were totally immersed in him and his presence, and honestly, that bass in his voice wasn’t helping this situation.

“We agreed that it was just sex,” you began. Your voice was slow and a bit slurred as your eyes fluttered shut. You could feel his thumb stroking the curve of your hip, something that only seemed to help that fast approaching feeling of sleep come faster. “You… You tricked me into liking you.” 

“It was the only way I could catch your squishy ass.”

“You… You don’t know that.”

“I know you wouldn’t take me seriously.”

“Why would I?” A yawn escaped you. The hand at your hip moved to your ass and took a firm grip before pressing you closer to him. This only made you sleepier. “You a hoe.”

“A legend, you mean?”

“A legendary hoe.”

He scoffed. “Didn’t I tell you to take your squishy ass to sleep?”

“ _Squishy_?”

“Squishy is good, lil nigga.”

Had it been any other day, you would drawn him into a heated argument that would have only ended with you sitting on his face. But you were honestly too tired to exert that much energy over a stupid nickname. An admittedly cute nickname. So you snuggled deeper into him, taking refuge in the way he laced his fingers with yours once again.

“That’s mani— decep—  _trickery_. You  _tricked_  me, nigga.”

Erik snorted and gave a low chuckle. “Take your fluffy ass back to sleep. We’ll figure this out when we wake up.”

“Can we eat pizza and quesadillas and tuna sandwiches while we figure it out?” you slurred as another yawn slipped past your lips. “I really… I really want sushi, too.”

“The ones with the avocado, right? I know you like those.”

You hummed a little. That sounded good. “And the ones with that… that red sauce on top, too.”

Another chuckle escaped him. This one was low and ragged, a clear indicator that he was getting ready to fall asleep, too. The sound made your toes curl as he placed a chaste kiss onto your forehead. You didn’t even take the time to figure out why he felt comfortable enough to do that or what it meant. You just knew that you liked it, and you weren’t too sure if that was a good thing.

“Whatever you want, Princess.”

Princess.

 _His_  princess.

A lazy smile spread across your face.

“You like that?” he asked. “You like ‘Princess’?”

Although his voice seemed to be steadily fading away, you could hear the smile in it. This made you nod. “I like… I like ‘Princess’, baby.”

Erik jolted underneath you with yet another chuckle, one that morphed into an easy laugh. The sound was warm and welcoming, like the first day of summer after being stuck in school all year. It made you sigh with elation. He brought your hand up to his lips and placed a kiss into your palm with a soft groan. “ _Baby_? I think I like that one, Princess. I don’t think I finished tellin’ you about Wakanda…”

That was the last thing you heard before sleep took you away.


End file.
